LETTER XIV
Saturday Morning.
The two or three letters, which I have written to you lately, my love, will ſerve as an anſwer to your explanatory one. I cannot but reſpect your motives and conduct. I always reſpected them; and was only hurt, by what ſeemed to me a want of confidence, and conſequently affection.—I thought alſo, that if you were obliged to ſtay three months at H—, I might as well have been with you.—Well! well, what ſignifies what I brooded over—Let us now be friends!
I ſhall probably receive a letter from you to-day, ſealing my pardon—and I will be careful not to torment you with my querulous humours, at leaſt, till I ſee you again. Act as circumſtances direct, and I will not enquire when they will permit you to return, convinced that you will haſten to your * * * *, when you have attained (or loſt ſight of) the object of your journey.
What a picture have you ſketched of our fire-ſide! Yes, my love, my fancy was inſtantly at work, and I found my head on your ſhoulder, whilſt my eyes were fixed on the little creatures that were clinging about your knees. I did not abſolutely determine that there ſhould be ſix—if you have not ſet your heart on this round number.
I am going to dine with Mrs. ——. I have not been to viſit her ſince the firſt day ſhe came to Paris. I wiſh indeed to be out in the air as much as I can; for the exerciſe I have taken theſe two or three days paſt, has been of ſuch ſervice to me, that I hope ſhortly to tell you, that I am quite well. I have ſcarcely ſlept before laſt night, and then not much.—The two Mrs. ———s have been very anxious and tender.
Yours truly
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I need not deſire you to give the colonel a good bottle of wine.